


Study Session

by audreyslove



Series: Signed Sealed Delivered [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 11:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: Written for OQ Prompt Party: Day 2: Tuesday.Prompts:71 "We have to be quick"94 “This can never happen again”151 Jealous Regina and/or Robin189 OQ have sex in a library191 OQ +rimming213 Friends with benefits240 Jealous Regina (when they aren’t even together) and she gets all possessive, angry then takes matters into her own hands so they have a get together sex.





	Study Session

 

She wasn’t supposed to see him today at all. He was supposed to be with John and Will, watching the freaking world cup and drinking at the pub down the street.

And she was supposed to be studying for her summer session class while Emma used the apartment to entertain _Killian._ And she’s tired of sitting back and watching this relationship when it’s so obviously something she’s entertaining solely to get Neal’s attention.

So she’s curled up in a near-empty library (it’s the summer, after all, barely anyone is here) and she is trying to study, trying not to think about who went to the bar with Robin. His ex, Marian is in town, and she is a bit of a sports fanatic, and she can’t stop picturing her sidling next to him, sharing a pitcher of beer and her ridiculous knowledge of every player on every team, touching him and leaning into him…

She’d rather he hook up with Ruby, or Ashley, someone he doesn’t quite care about that’s unlikely to lead to—

Regina groans, she hates having this crush on him (it’s obviously more than a crush at this point, but she’s not going to think about it).

She’s supposed to _study,_ she’s not supposed to be stuck thinking about him drinking and laughing with women who share his love of sports just a few blocks from where she’s currently sitting.

And she definitely hasn’t been looking things up on each country’s team, definitely hasn’t been entertaining the idea of giving up on this statistics equation and showing up at the bar with some nonsense about finishing her work early, anything to explain why she’s randomly showing up to a bar she never frequents to watch a game she has no interest in.

Shit, she hates feeling like this.

She hates thinking about him being drunk in the early afternoon, a whole evening of celebrating ahead of him, girls in tight tank tops and tighter jeans toasting their pints and joining in celebratory hugs.

Marian will probably wear her hair in pigtails, and paint mini Argentinian flag signs under each eye. Fuck, she hates Marian.

And Robin is probably wearing one of those pastel blue shirts that brings out his eyes and his tan, probably wearing that cologne she likes, hair all nicely styled, and fuck, she misses him.

Wants him.

But they are not together and she really needs to stop thinking of him as such.

She’s not going to pull a clingy girlfriend move and saunter into that bar and sit next to him and mark her territory. No matter how much he seems to _like_ her doing that every time she has broken down before and fallen into that trap.

In fact, he’s welcomed her every time.

Like the last time they were together, a few weekends, when Carmella was all over him, and Regina was supposed to be staying away, she was _supposed_ to not care. So she had been flirting with Lance or trying to, but the second she saw Carmella put her hand on Robin’s thigh, she realized she has given up all hopes of ignoring them.

So, on the pretense of introducing Lance to her friends, she made her way to the table where Robin, Carmella, John, and Will were.

And when John told her to take up a chair, she couldn’t help it that the best place to park herself was right next to Robin, could she?

He welcomed her there, directed her to sit next to him, even, and as Lance traded stories with Ashley, _Regina’s_ hand found its way to Robin’s thigh, almost possessively, taking back what Carmella attempted to steal without even knowing.

But he didn’t shuffle away, didn’t move towards the person he could have very well been on a date with.

Instead, he gave her a knowing smile and dropped his hand below the table to squeeze _her_ thigh.

And then it became a game of subtle touches when their friends weren’t looking, whispered words of desire that led to them planning an exit - Robin saying he was headed home early first, Regina leaving soon after and joining him in the apartment.

She has wound up sleeping over that night. Robin should have been put out over that. After all, they are _not_ dating, and sleeping over is definitely not something that casual fuckbuddies do. So she expected him to complain, but when she woke up in his arms, he didn’t seem put out at all — even snuck into the kitchen and brought back a bowl of berries, toast, and two cartons of yogurt for “breakfast”.

She had snuck out of his apartment a few hour later and tiptoed into hers, Emma was already up and anxious to know how things went with _Lance._

And Regina had to invent some excuse for where she was that didn’t involve Lance or her brother.

But once she was alone Regina had felt… embarrassed. She hated herself for always _wanting_ him so badly when this wasn’t supposed to be the deal. It was supposed to be just scratching an itch, getting out those hormones when they needed it. But it’s hard to convince herself that that’s all it is, when she’s so possessive of him, when she can’t stand to think of him with anyone else. And if this were really just about her overactive libido, she wouldn’t be turning down opportunities with others for a chance with Robin.

So it’s more, and it’s thrilling, but also terrifying and wrong. And that is why as much as she wants to race down to that bar right now and spend the entire afternoon flirting with him, she is going to sit here and finish this work instead.

Give him some space, her some space, so they aren’t on top of each other all the time, mixing with the lines of fuckbuddy and significant other.

Robin texts just then as if he knows she’s thinking about him. Just a simple _Where are you?_

She fights every urge to type back something suggestive and flirty and merely writes _At the library._

She turns back to this infernal problem and sets her mind on figuring it out.

Logistic regression is going to be the death of her. Which is ironic considering her problem is assessing the statistic of certain risk factors in cardiac death.

She really wants to ignore her phone when it buzzes… she really does.

She checks anyway.

_We are at Del Campo. Come over_

As if she didn’t already know. He must not remember her being there when they made plans (she was never invited, just sat awkwardly while they all planned to meet up).

She frowns and responds a quick message.

_Can’t. I have work to do._

Ok. Logistic regression. Time to focus.

But for fuck's sake, her phone keeps buzzing and she’s read this problem 15 times and isn’t able to get her mind off what Robin could possibly be messaging her.

She lets it go the first few times, but finally relents and checks.

 _Please_  
_I’ll buy all your drinks_  
_I just want to see you_  
_Ok maybe more than that, but seeing you would also be nice  
_ _In fact, can you take a picture of yourself?_

She sighs, wishing she could just enjoy his apparent eagerness over seeing her, but she just can’t.

_It’s 11 AM and you are supposed to be watching a game… are you honestly horny right now?_

She pretends not to be flattered.

_Yes. I’ve been drinking since 9:30 AM, and things are getting rowdy in this bar. And remember when I dragged you here last time? Now the bar reminds me of us…._

The last time she went to the bar it was Carnivale. As soon as Emma had left, things became heated, under masks and black lights, that thin veneer of anonymity that just let them go crazy on one another.

She’s definitely not going to let herself be happy that he’s thinking of her and that night right now, definitely not. In fact, it’s hard to believe given the sea of coeds he is day drinking with today. So she shoots back,

_Well, I am studying so you’ll have to find someone else to play with. What’s the matter, no eye candy at the pub?_

_He responds, No not exactly. Merida has already flashed her tits. Quite a few times._

She really didn’t need to know that. Merida, the peppy international student who has made fast friends with Robin, Graham, and Killian. The one who can chug beer just as fast as they can, knows more about football than any of them, and could give zero fucks about what other people think.

She’s confident and brave and strong and everything Regina’s not.

So great, Merida _and_ Marian are there. Wonderful. She fights the urge to resist replying to him at all (he’ll know she’s upset, he can read her well) and instead, goes for something that she hopes communicates that she doesn’t care how many tits he looks at. _Lovely, I’m sure they are fantastic looking._

His reply is lightning fast. _They are pretty good, but not the best tits I’ve ever seen. You win that prize._

She rolls her eyes. Out of all her best features, her breasts are…. nothing to write home about. She might have an above average ass, some nice legs, but her breasts are a part of her body she’d always been self-conscious about. She’s never let him know that and never said anything about it. But she decides she’ll let him know now, let him know she’s aware of what she looks like. So she types back, _Please, stop flattering me. My breasts barely even exist._

She doesn’t even go back to the equation this time. Just stares at her texts.  Stares at those three little dots as he writes until his response pops up:

_Oh, they exist, believe me, I am picturing them now and I’m not that creative. And they are perfect._

He can be so obnoxious, so ridiculously charming. But he’s full of it now, and he knows it. And so does she. She shoots back _I think you have a bad memory_ and closes the chat.

She even puts down her phone and picks up a pencil, but she is weak, so weak, and her phone is buzzing and she can’t help but look.

_Mmm, maybe it's a bad memory. Refresh it for me, with a topless pic._

This time she smiles, hating herself for how damned flattered she is, how touching it is to her (why is it touching that he is looking for a picture of her tits? She should be insulted, right?).

She tries to remain unattached, responding with, _You are supposed to be watching the game not trolling for nudes. Is it boring you?_

Robin sends a reply that makes her heart stop.

_It’s tied 2-2. It’s a great game and I can’t be arsed to pay attention. Want you too bad.  Want you all the time._

She is suddenly indignant, because if he wanted her so badly, why didn't he invite her?  Why did he invite his fucking ex-girlfriend?  She's jealous, and can’t quite tamp down that anxiety that she’s been feeling since she heard about the plans for today. She thinks of Marian, and how it seems he can never quite quit her and fires off a reply before she can think better of it.

_I figured you’d be completely spent after spending the week with Marian._

She sees him start to type, then stop, the start again. She’s tripped him up, it seems. And she can’t help but feel a bit amused at that, at the fact he is probably flustered.

But the response that comes up is far…. More touching than she expected.

_I don’t want to get back into that. We are done for good this time. I swear. Last time I’ve been with anyone it was with you._

Things are verging on sweet, she desperately wants to say things that she won’t be able to take back, to let herself get charmed by the sentiment. But she fights it,  She tells herself he's just being sweet to get a nude picture.

And you know what? She will give it to him.  All in good fun, right?

She shrugs off her cardigan and leaves her desk, back towards the periodicals where no one ever goes.

And then she pulls down her bra and tee shirt, then angles her phone and takes a quick selfie. It’s actually a bit of a thrill to do this, in the library, where anyone may see. It makes her think of other things she could do in this almost but not quite private space.

She grimaces at the picture. She has visible tan lines this summer, her breasts are small there’s something about the way they looked rugged out of a bra and shirt that she doesn’t like.

She sends it anyway, then cursed herself for not warning him in advance, god she hopes he still has his notifications off from the last time they played this little sexting game.

She adds a _Fine, you win. Here’s your topless picture._

She’s planning on turning her phone to silent for the rest of the afternoon, but she really just forgets. And when her phone starts buzzing like crazy, well, it takes all her resolve to turn it on silent and go back to her statistics work.

But that is exactly what she does. For a solid fifteen minutes.

Until she can’t help it, and caves, checking her phone.

She’s missed quite a few texts, all of them complimentary.

 _Oh my god_  
_Fuck_  
_You’re right, my memory needed refreshing, they are better than I remember._  
_Fuck the fact you took that in what appears to be the school library makes it even hotter_  
_your nipples are hard_  
_Fuck they are so perfect_  
_Can’t stop thinking about you…._  
_Your tits feel so good when i hold them in my hands, give a little squeeze, your nipples get so hard when I touch you, just rub my thumbs over them.  
_ _I want to suck on those nipples, flick them with my tongue, give them a little scrape with my teeth like you like_

She definitely shouldn’t be reading this right now, because Emma has the apartment and she definitely can’t come back, wet and needy, retiring to the bedroom for “alone time” when she damn well knows Killian and her are probably fucking on the couch.

But god, she now really needs it. Because he knows what that does to her, everything he’s described.

Her nipples are so hard, poking through her shirt, and she can’t help but torture herself, give each a passing stroke of her thumb. She’s _aching_ for it, each touch makes her clit pulse, fuck she needs it.

But she doesn’t let him know he’s affected her, she’s better than that, she’s supposed to be _studying,_ and they are supposed to be giving one another _space,_ so…

_I don’t even know you were a breast guy until now. You always seemed to appreciate my other assets a bit more._

She should put the phone down. She should, but she isn’t. This time, she watches as he sends her a series of texts rapid fire:

_I am a “you” guy. Every last bit of you._

_Believe me, I dream of those tits. As much as I dream about your perfect ass. I don’t suppose you could send me a picture of that?_

She laughs, a bit too loud for a library, and spins around to make sure that no one has heard her. She doesn’t see anyone around and breathes a sigh of relief. They might not know why she was laughing, but she’s so turned on right now. Any eyes at all would make her _feel_ like they caught her doing something inappropriate.

Now, as for that picture he’s requested, it’s not going to happen. She’s wearing a short pleated graphic print summer skirt, nothing too fancy or tight, so a picture is possible. But she’s definitely not pulling it up and trying to angle her phone to catch a picture.

Still, she’s addicted to the way he talks about her body, addicted to the way it makes her heart soar.

_I’m not taking a picture of my ass in the library_

His reply pops up quickly, _Then my mental picture will have to do. God, I want you. Want to fuck you right now._

She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but she can’t help herself, she’s always been weak for him.

So she answers _Me too. Really wish you were here, you’ve riled me all up._

And then she sets her phone aside, and starts to actually work on solving this problem.

She should have taken Mark up on his offer to help her study. She hated him for offering, though he was truly only trying to help, she always feels like some of the men of the class are being a bit… sexist with their offers.

So she refused his help when he’s clearly a genius, and now she’s stuck trying to figure this out on her own.

She tries to focus, crosses her legs together tight to try to alleviate her _needs_ (she can manage, she can take care of herself later, when she’s alone in the apartment with her vibrator, she can read back over his texts and picture him begging to fuck her with his mouth and cock, and it will feel good).

Her phone is on silent, on the opposite side of her desk, and she’s almost lost in coefficients and Z statistics, completely oblivious to anything but solving the problem until she hears a whispering voice inches from her ear.

“You look sexy when you’re calculating.”

It startles her for a second, but she still grins ear to ear for second — as if by reflex — before tamping down her excitement as best she can.

“Robin,” she whispers, “what are you—?”

“I missed you,” he explains, before bending down to kiss her.

She thinks it will just be a peck, a nice sweet _hi, how are you_ kiss, but he deepens it, and it becomes a bit sloppy and passionate.

She is lost in lust and her own fantasies for a brief second until she remembers that they don’t do this. They don’t kiss on campus. Too many people could oversee, things could get back to Emma.

So Regina pulls back and darts her eyes around the library, but Robin laughs.

“You’re almost the only one here, don’t worry,” Robin assures. “We won’t scandalize anyone with our forbidden actions. I needed to see you, sorry.”

He urges her up and out of her chair, though it doesn’t take much. She’s practically chasing his lips, as pathetic as she is.

“If you’re sure no one is here….”

She stands, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly.

And then she pats his ass, smiles at him, and says, “There, that should hold ya. Now get back to your game.”

“No chance,” Robin grunts, walking her back towards the bookshelves. “Do you have any idea what that picture did to me?”

She lets him walk her backwards, lets him guide as he takes her to the far corner where she had snapped the photo he’s talking about.

She gives him a little smile, even grabs his shirt as they walk (he is wearing this nice sky blue shirt that makes his tan and his eyes stand out, and she loves it).

“What are you doing?” she asks innocently, but she knows, she absolutely knows what he is doing.

But they absolutely cannot fuck on campus in _public._ If someone catches her she will be mortified. And when campus finds out about it, Emma will, and then she and Robin will both be dead. Dead and humiliated.

“I couldn't stop thinking about you,” he rasps into her ear before biting it. “Three weeks is far too long. No more of that, I think I might die from withdrawal.”

She chuckles deeply, shakes her head as he backs her into the bookcase that is flush with the wall behind them.

“I’m serious.” Robin takes her hand, moves it to it’s on his groin, so she can feel how hard he is for her.

God, he’s hard, thick, ready, and fuck if she wants him.

“You should head back. Your friends are probably missing you,” she reminds, but there’s no heat to her voice, and she doesn’t want him to go, not at all.

“I just told Will and Marian that I had to make a quick phone call,” Robin mutters. “They think I’m outside the bar right now.”

Regina shakes her head in disbelief, a little smile on her lips. “Robin….”

“Are you as turned on as I am?” He rasps a hand drifting up her skirt. She spreads her legs for him, arches into the touch, lets him cup her over her underwear and rub.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” Robin moans, and then he’s reaching underneath, so his fingers rub where she’s slippery and ready for him.

“We can’t.” Her voice comes out in a breathy whisper, as she lets him kiss down her neck, her clavicle, her jawline. She even tilts into his touch as she’s telling him no. That really is sending mixed signals, isn’t it?

“Fine let’s go to your apartment,” he mutters into her skin, before planting another open mouthed kissed to shoulder.

“No,” she gasps, as his free hand finds its way to her breasts, kneading over the fabric of her tank top. “Emma’s home — _fuck!_ keep doing that — we can’t.”

His place is further away, far away enough that their hormones would cool by the time they made it there. Plus she knows John is likely to come back early, maybe bring Merida back with him if things go the way they normally do.

So his place and her place isn’t an option, which…. Well she wishes this wasn’t becoming a familiar refrain. She wishes it wasn’t, wishes she could drag him back to her bedroom and fuck the life out of him (yes, she was supposed to give him space, but didn’t she? He came to her, and she can’t be blamed for liking it).

She doesn’t dwell on much of anything for long, because Robin is listening to her request. A thumb grazes over her nipple, and he twists it a bit at the end, just like she likes, while his other hand is busy, fingers pressing hard against her clit. She sinks into the feeling, throwing her head back to the bookshelf with a groan.

“Fuck, Regina…” he whispers before capturing her lips in another heated kiss. “You are so beautiful. Please, love…” His fingers are slipping into her now, and he curses softly about how good she feels. He’s not doing anything too fast, or deep, nothing that will have her coming too soon, but the second even one part of him is inside her, it hits her how _hot_ this is, fucking in their school’s library where anyone could come in at any second and see them.

“We have to be quick.” Regina murmurs, kissing him as she undoes his buckle and unzips him.

“Thank god,” Robin mutters, and he pushes her bra and tank down, lifting her breasts out of their confines, and — god, he moans at the sight of them and it goes straight to her clit.

“Christ, you’re perfect.” He’s touching, cupping, kneading each breast in his hand, but he knows what she wants, and he’s not doing that quite yet.

“Robin please,” she begs, at this moment, and this very moment, she doesn’t care how she sounds, doesn’t care if he knows how desperate she is for his touch (all the time, but especially now).

Robin chuckles, and whispers back, “Give me a second to just look at you.”

He only admires for a few seconds, but she watches his face as he looks and fuck, he looks so damn sexy, makes her feel beautiful, the way he sighs and licks his lips at the sight of her.

“Gorgeous,” Robin mumbles. Then he dips down to take a nipple on his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak in a way that makes her lose her breath. He sucks hard, and when he uses his teeth, she short-circuits.

She had been imagining this for nearly an hour, but the feeling is nothing compared to her fantasy, it feels even better, his wet, needy mouth devouring her, oh fuck...

He stops only to whisper a little _shh_ before treating the other nipple to the same treatment, and it’s only then she realizes she’s been a bit loud (but it’s good, it’s so good, and she hates having to be quiet, they are always sneaking around, almost always having to do this between classes or when roommates are out, she doesn’t have the luxury of unlimited time in a soundproof room, god, she hopes one day they find a way where they can be as loud as they want for as long as they want).

He keeps it up, keeps switching from one nipple and then the other, and this is not _quick_ at all, she should be reminding him, but she doesn’t want this to end.

He gives her a soft little love bite to the side of one breast and then looks at her with this sweet, sappy look. “Don’t you ever think you haven’t been blessed with the most perfect rack in the world. It’s an insult to the gods who made you.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are hot, and she’s probably blushing, giving away how flattered he’s made her.

“They’re small,” she protests, but Robin kisses her again and shakes his head.

“They are perfectly round and perky, your nipples are—“ he’s staring at her again, takes a deep breath, “perfect shape, size, so responsive…”

He kisses one and then the other, looks up at her, his face a bit more serious. “Flawless,” he says, and she shivers at all the meaning he’s putting into it.

And then he’s sinking to his knees, his thumb hooking under the waistline of her underwear, yanking it down with him as he goes.

“Robin— _ohh! —_ I said we have to be… _mmm!”_ They don’t have time for this unnecessary, delightful foreplay. As much as she’s missed his tongue (and she’s missed it _a lot_ ) this is sex in a public place and they really should be just getting to the main course.

“I’ll be quick I promise. You’re already so…” Robin swipes his tongue across her sex, “so worked up. Won’t take long…”

She can’t argue with that, so she nods, palms the back of his head and lifts a leg up to his shoulders and just let him… eat.

He doesn’t really tease, which is good if unusual. Maybe it’s a combination of her already being more than ready, and the fact they don’t have much time, but he gives her those firm, long licks across her clit that makes her weak in the knees. She lets herself lean against the bookshelf for support, sighs and enjoys the feeling of his tongue, his lips, as they smack together, press against where she’s sensitive and soaked, it’s good, and it’s rocketing her up and over that precipice embarrassingly fast.

“God that feels so good,” she gasps, “I… I’m close, I…need, I..”

“I know,” Robin mutters into her sex, and he does, he knows how she works. Two fingers slide inside her, just the right angle, there’s no need to teach him, instruct him on anything. They’ve fucked so many times in so many different positions, he’s even got the angle and form right when she’s standing here, leaning against a bookshelf, one leg on his shoulder and a hand eagerly pushing his head between her thighs.

“Fuck you feel amazing,” he groans, “So fucking wet, can’t wait to be inside you.”

As much as she loves his voice, she needs his mouth on her more, so she hums a response, grips his hair and pushes his mouth against where she needs him.

He chuckles into her, and then he’s sucking, licking hard, sucking again, while his fingers pump in and out, just the right angle, picking up speed with each thrust, and everything becomes more acute, stronger, the electric, sharp feeling when she’s close, to pleasure flaring up her belly, god it’s good, so good, _oh god..._

She lets out a sound that’s far too loud and far too pornographic for the library, and she cringes, hopes it doesn’t echo. She bites her lip hard as he thrusts inside her, closing her eyes tight as she swallows back a moan.

She feels her belly clench, her legs tremble, and she comes with a choked cry of his name.

“So good,” she whispers, "get…. get inside me.”

Robin laughs, still on his knees, she feels him stroke her, his soaked fingers starting from her clit to — oh god — up between her cheeks, pressing against her other opening, and that’s wrong, he hasn’t done that with her, she hasn’t done that with _anyone._

“What are you— _ohhh_!” she was entirely unprepared for how good it felt, having someone press against the sensitive skin _there._

She had no idea it could feel like this, hadn’t ever dreamed of asking for this, hadn’t ever explored….but it sends goosebumps over her body, has her growing wet yet again. She is biting her lip to keep from crying out, but just as soon as she regains her ability to speak, she’s going to tell Robin to stop.

“Oh, mmmm!”

He’s licking at her now, but his fingers aren’t where they should be, they are pressing, and god, he’s going to, and she should hate this, why on earth does it feel so good? it’s...

“Robin, please, fuck me, I…”

“You like this,” he whispers, “I know you do, I can feel it.”

“I….” she fights, and then he swipes his tongue past where he never has before, and her entire body convulses at the feel of him.

She’s freshly showered from this morning, her body still smells of soap and her hair of the rich perfumey scent of her shampoo. But still…

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says again, “Or if you want to _experiment,_ maybe after a shower…”

“You’re clean.” His beard tickles her thighs as he licks at her, and she moans into him. “Trust me, love, just trust me.”

Protests die on her lips, and she nods, lets him continue.

She trusts him, she does. Trust him enough to let her do some ass play in the _university_ _library_ for fuck's sake.

His tongue skims sensitive areas, draws closer to where she finds she really wants him, and then he spins her, so she’s facing the old, leather-bound books, the smell of antique bindings fill her nose. And somehow, somehow, she’s hit with a punch of lust at the fact that they are in such a stuffy place, doing such debaucherous things.

“I love how you look from this angle,” Robin whispers, “love your ass so much.”

She has to stifle a surprised squeak when she feels him actually take a small bite out of her left cheek - nothing harsh, but firm _,_ and it reminds her that he’s hungry for her, devouring her, and her thighs clench in anticipation for what’s to come.

He angles her so she’s bending at a slight angle, her ass up, and then he’s eating her from behind, paying attention to her clit at first, before sliding a tongue down and around. He reaches around her, one hand roughly rubbing at her clit while his tongue presses into her puckered opening, and she closes her eyes until she sees stars.

“God, Robin…” she moans, “I’m….oh god…”

He keeps at it, keeps licking at her, rubbing circles around her clit, drawing out sounds she definitely should not be making at a library, but she can't help it, it’s too good, and they are definitely going to get caught, someone is going to hear them, hell, she doesn’t even mind at this point, she’s too close, she had no idea that the stimulation on her clit combined with what he’s doing to her ass could make her feel so, fuck it’s amazing, she losing the ability to stand, grasping at the bookshelves tightly, holding on for dear life as everything quivers, nearly doubling over on a particular lick, fuck. She needs to stop moaning, panting, so she bites her lip, a little whine escaping her as she does, god, this should be embarrassing, but she’s too far gone, her belly is clenching, pleasure radiating up and down from her core, and she’s close, so close, fuck...

“Robin please... inside, I’m going to, _ohh!”_

She right on the edge, fighting the urge to tip over, when he stops touching her long enough to stand behind her, kissing her neck.

“Need to be inside you,” he whispers.

She nods, moans something like _please_ or _need you_ — something desperate, and then she hears him unzipping and lining up to her in just the right position.

“God you look beautiful like this,” he whispers in her ear. ”Do you want me to fuck you like this, from behind?”

She nods her head vigorously, shamelessly so, enough to make Robin chuckle into her ear as he angles himself just so and presses a kiss into the spot where her shoulder and neck meet.

It’s two thrusts before he takes her cues, the way she’s pushing back into him, rocking back and forth. And then it’s not gentle, not slow, it’s hard and fast, has her gripping hard at the bookshelves, moaning into these old, forgotten books. The shelves are shaking now, as he thrusts, and maybe some books will fall, but she doesn’t care,  doesn’t mind at all. She reaches down to touch herself, but Robin beats her to it, rubbing her clit as he takes her harder.

“ _Mmmm_ , it’s….god it’s been so long,” Regina gasps, and it really has, she hasn’t had anything inside her since their last time together, and he’s thick, hard, and each thrust of his hips is lifting her up, pleasure sparking in her belly, blooming as he hits that spot inside her that makes her weak.

“I know, god I know,” Robin whispers, “can’t take it, don’t make me go this long again, please, Regina, fuck — _god!_ Promise me.”

She reaches back blindly to grab at his hips, just to touch him, to encourage the pace he sets.

“I won’t — _ahh_ — I won’t wait this long next time,” she promises, lets herself say it under the guise of sex, pretends it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just something you say when you’re _in the moment._ She pushes aside that voice that is always telling her she’s flirting with danger, that she’s far too gone for him already. “I’ll — _mm!_ — make sure of it.”

“Thank god,” he moans back, “need you, addicted to you, love you so much, Regina.”

She’s not supposed to read anything into those words, in fact, she’s supposed to ignore them entirely, pretend they haven't truly been said. It’s just pillow talk.

“Love this— you, too, god, Robin, hard, I’m —- _mmm_!!”

She comes hard, around his cock, his fingers pushing hard little circles against her clit. Her body spasms, she clenches around him, and he’s so solid, so hard, it ramps it up, prolongs her orgasm, makes it more acute.

She loses her rhythm entirely, so he takes over, both of his hands fly to her hips as he pounds into her at a frantic pace, and then he’s groaning her name, and giving those erratic thrusts she knows means he’s spilling into her.

He presses into her back as he stops moving inside her, sighing and pressing a sweat sheened cheek against her shoulders, his breath still coming out in short puffs.

She could easily stay like this for a good while —with Robin’s body pressed to hers, each little aftershock of her orgasm clenching around his slowly softening cock, his breath on her skin, the little kisses he gives her making the moment seem almost sweet.

But they are in a public place, so, loathe as she is to ruin the moment, she presses back, urging him off of her. He lets her go, pulls out of her and pulls his pants up. offering a sweet smile as she puts her breasts back in her tank top, reaches for her fallen underwear and puts it back on, righting the pleats of her skirt.

“Well, that was new,” Robin chuckles, bending down to kiss her neck.

Her cheeks heat and she ducks down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“For the record,” he says in that sexy voice she loves so much, that tone he saves for moments after sex. “I loved it.”

She finds she needed to hear it, can’t help but smile at the sincerity to his words. “Well, it was… interesting. But this… or that, that can’t happen again.”

“Why not?” he asks, no heat to his tone, no judgment, just asking.

She’s far too embarrassed to explain, so she doesn’t, just shakes her head, her chin dipping down, and she has no idea what she has to be ashamed of, she’s not a prude, far from it, so why does the thought of Robin tonguing her ass have her acting like she is one?

He tilts her chin up and kisses her sweetly. He tastes like he always does after sex, a hint of her arousal on her tongue, nothing else. And that is oddly calming, knowing that things haven’t changed all that much.

He doesn’t wait for her to answer his question, just continues, telling her, “I loved everything, so much. The only problem was how quiet you had to be. I love hearing you. I miss it. It’s been so rare that we’ve had a place to ourselves.”

She chuckles, thinking of the last time they had the place to themselves. Emma had gone off to Neal’s family’s winter house, someplace up in the mountains of Virginia.

“Yeah, I don’t see Emma going on a couple's retreat anytime soon.” Regina grimaces. Killian isn’t going to take her anywhere romantic and alone. They may all go on a weekend trip together, but that won’t really solve their problem, will it?

“I want to get a hotel room. Just somewhere downtown where we don’t have to be quiet or feel rushed, or worry about someone walking in on us.”

Making plans in advance like this, it’s so clearly against their arrangement. And she really shouldn’t indulge him, she should be reminding him that they are just scratching an itch in the spur of the moment, that this could end at any second….

But she really wants that, wants it with him, so she shrugs, and offers a “Maybe…” that he knows means yes, from the way his face splits into a smile.

“Come back to the bar with me?” Robin asks hopefully. “Can the work wait until later?”

She might have jumped at the invitation before, when she was busy picturing him with Marian, or Merida…. Or anyone else. But things have shifted, her jealousy is gone, and somehow she just knows he’s not going to be with anyone else today.

“No, I should really get back home. I told Emma we’d get together later today.”

He nods, lets her go, reminds her that the offer still stands, should she find any free time this weekend.

He’s sweet to her, too sweet, she thinks, and it really isn’t supposed to be this way, with them. There should be fewer feelings, less commitment. But right now it’s exactly what she wants, what she needs, and she’s not going to run from this arrangement anytime soon.


End file.
